


Coming Home

by acciomediumdrip



Category: Glee
Genre: Dalton - Freeform, Dalton AU, M/M, historical klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciomediumdrip/pseuds/acciomediumdrip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enchanted by the mysterious transfer student to Dalton Academy, Blaine doesn’t  think he can manage to introduce himself, let alone befriend, the fiercely independent Kurt Hummel.  Then a chance meeting sparks a lasting friendship that has Kurt and Blaine instantly inseparable.  Kurt’s research into Westerville’s past brings his attention to the mysterious death of a Dalton student some twenty years previous, and before Blaine can move beyond contemplating whether his friendship with Kurt is something more, they find themselves dealing with bullies who know more than they should and the threat of a much deadlier foe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> [Written for klaine big bang 2013! ](http://klaine-bigbang.livejournal.com/)
> 
> Check out magicalplaylist’s beautiful art[here ](http://magicalplaylist.tumblr.com/post/66194810508/for-the-klaine-big-bang-check-out)
> 
> AN: A million thanks to the lovely people who lent their beta-ing skills along the way to make this fic what it is: [blainersgirl](http://blainersgirl.tumblr.com/), [bowtieloverblaine](http://bowtieloverblaine.tumblr.com/), and [manningstar](http://manningstar.livejournal.com/), who stayed up late, and read through lunch breaks, and cheer led when this story was just a pile of notecards in turn. This story wouldn’t be possible without you.
> 
> Warnings: mild suspense and violence, reference to canon character death, reference to OC death, themes that touch on grief

_Part I_

Winter was making its presence known on Dalton’s campus with biting gusts of wind- curling through empty fields, snaking under doorways, and whispering through layers of clothes, chilling students as they bustled between classes. Blaine curled his hands tighter around the cup of coffee he’d snagged from the dining hall, letting the warmth from the china leech into his skin and warn off the chilling bite. As he watched students hurrying between classes, their backs bent against the wind, the blurs of navy and sudden bursts of red from Dalton ties seemed like the only bits of color to soften the monochrome of grey sky. 

As his gaze wandered over the sea of familiar students, Blaine fancied he could sense a heavy stillness hanging behind the murmur of young voices, as if the young students of Dalton were somehow always imposing on the silence of the fields around them.

Blaine’s gaze stopped on a familiar figure, the boy’s lean frame bent over a book as he perched on the edge of a bench, one long leg crossed elegantly over the other, his face half-hidden behind a black scarf.

“You’re staring again.” 

Blaine jumped at the sound of Monty’s voice, looking up in time to see that Monty had followed his gaze as he took a seat beside Blaine.  
Blaine shrugged, “There’s a lot to take in.”

Blaine wasn’t the only one fascinated with Kurt Hummel.

The mysterious transfer student had shown up the first day of classes without a hint of gossip to announce his coming (unheard of in a town like Westerville). He’d instantly gained a reputation for being cold; people were curious, and he wasn’t forthcoming with information. Which made people desperate to know everything there was to know. He was sharp and biting and came across as cruel in a way that Blaine had a feeling he didn’t really mean to, at least not at first.

But it didn’t take long for Kurt’s superiority-infused comments about how much better his life had been in New York Before (before his Grandmother, who was his guardian, died and he was shunted off to the next available kin that would have him, according to the rumors that eventually got out) made him a prime target for bullying from the straight- laced sons of Westerville’s finest families. Patrick, who went about making everyone’s life miserable as if it was his sacred duty to the community, was chief among them.

Kurt remained as independent and bitingly cold as ever under the pressure of relentless teasing. His reaction seemed to invoke equal parts awe and dislike, with both responses proving equally alienating. 

Kurt was somehow undefinably _different_. It seemed to make Patrick and his friends angry. It made Blaine...

“I just can’t figure him out.”

Monty snorted. “You and everyone else.”

“You could just talk to him, lover boy,” Monty added, teasing gently.

Blaine felt his face heat up and made a concentrated effort to keep his gaze anywhere but on Kurt. 

“Kurt doesn’t talk to anyone,” Blaine said when the bell rang and the last few students on the quad darted into their classroom buildings, Blaine taking the hint to gather up his messenger bag beside Monty, “why would he talk to me?”

“You’ve been thinking about Kurt this whole time?” Monty said with a mischievous grin on his face.

Blaine ducked his head and trotted off to class without another word.

 

{}{}{}

 

Two am found Blaine still in his uniform, laboring through the Symposium with the hopes it might put him to sleep, his Greek textbook at one elbow, his record player emitting a string of mellow-romantic songs at his other, the swirl of archaic text on the page making less and less sense as the night went on. The moon outside his window ghosted huge in the dark sky, casting the school grounds in silver light. The kind of song and the kind of night that would be perfect for a late-night stroll, the very air thick and weighty, the silence beyond his small circle of music heavy with its own texture.

Blaine finally gave up on his text, hefting the record player down to the floor and laying down next to it, willing his mind to settle enough to think about sleep.

Blaine’s door whispered open and he sat up as the air in the room shifted, glancing at the door to see a slight frame illuminated by the faint glow of his desk light.

“Shit,” the boy muttered, his voice embarrassed, clearly uncomfortable. “This is definitely, definitely, not my room. I’m so sorry. I’ll just-” Despite the fluttered hint of embarrassment there was power behind the voice, clear and strong. As he stood frozen in the doorway, the light caught just right for Blaine to see his face and the clear outline of his frame.

Kurt Hummel. 

Kurt’s wet hair clung to his forehead, torso wrapped tight in a charcoal dressing gown, his long legs in striped satin pajama pants beneath the hem. Looking right at Blaine, his face a mixture of lingering surprise and recognition as he took in Blaine and the slowly turning record player beside him. 

Blaine gawked openly, taken in by the surprise of Kurt appearing out of nowhere messy and ready for sleep, unguarded. He looked unreal for just a moment, something about his pearl-white skin in the glowing light, pink lips and startling blue eyes behind long lashes. But Kurt shifted on his feet, looking around uncertainly as a new song clicked on and his face brightened suddenly, features lighting up one at a time.

“Is that-”

Blaine picked up the album sleeve to show him the title, “You know it?”

“My grandmother had that album,” Kurt spoke softly. “This song – it’s one of my favorites, it’s the last thing I would have expected to hear.”

“I, uh- like it a lot, actually” Blaine said a little breathlessly, his brain unable to cope with the reality of Kurt standing in his doorway, looking so perfect and human all at once.

Kurt hesitated, hand on the door, weight shifted onto the balls of his feet like he was about to duck out of the room.

“Stay!” Blaine blurted. “I mean- you could stay... listen to the rest. Keep me company?”

Kurt smiled and it changed his face yet again- scrunching up his eyes and his nose and Blaine suddenly wanted to know everything on this earth that would make Kurt so happy his face looked like that.

“Won’t you sit down?” Blaine said it before realizing he had just asked Kurt Hummel to join him sitting on the floor in the middle of his room. “I mean- if you don’t mind?”

Kurt walked to the other side of the record player, folding his long legs a bit ungainly until he was sitting cross-legged beside Blaine, the record player between them.

“It’s a perfect night for these songs,” Kurt said. And he meant it, Blaine could tell. There was something at the edge of his voice, like he just _knew_ ; about the heavy silence outside, the still night, the whisper of moonlight on the grounds, knew how perfect it really was.

Blaine stared, the notes of the song carrying meaning between them, latched his eyes onto Kurt’s strange green-tinted blue ones and swore something deep and powerful passed between them. Something about the soft song and heavy stillness beyond it, the darkness of the night and the glow from Blaine’s desk lamp. How very much alone they felt with the rest of the world asleep.

Kurt unfolded his legs, let his head fall back on his hands as he stretched out on Blaine’s floor. Blaine unlocking his elbows to follow. Blaine didn’t dare look over, one song bled into the next and all Blaine could think about was the very buzzing electric feel on his skin at the proximity to Kurt. 

Blaine swore he could feel Kurt’s body heat beside him, every nerve seemed acutely set to where Blaine’s skin ended and Kurt’s began. Like the air between them was nothing more than space that needed to be erased. Kurt, so very real and less than two feet away, his mind swirling with a thousand thoughts and Blaine wanted to hear every single one of them. His heart beating in his chest, and Blaine wanted to feel his pulse against his skin.

Blaine dared to look once he had regained the ability to move, shifted his head to the side to peer at Kurt’s profile and couldn’t get past the strong line of his jaw, finally taking in his fluttery pale lashes and upturned nose before Kurt turned to face him.

Kurt smiled as he turned to meet his gaze. Blaine read it as permission to look and smiled back at the giddy joy of it. It was different than the smile Blaine had received on asking Kurt to stay. This was little more than a slight upturn of lips, a sad but complacent kind of gesture, comfortable and every-day in a way Blaine couldn’t quite define. 

Blaine found out exactly how it felt when he saw Kurt’s smile widen just a little in response to Blaine’s returning grin. Knowing Blaine had done it, been a little responsible for the way the corners of Kurt’s lips hiked up and his eyes shone somehow bright, sent something fluttering in his chest. Good, pure, concentrated joy, suddenly crystalized and broken down to one simple exchange, it caught the breath in Blaine’s throat, made him never want to look away.

 

{}{}{}

 

Blaine woke the next day stiff and groggy and still in his uniform. His eyelids tilted open in the light streaming through his window and he froze, his eyes trained on the ceiling for a second, wanting to chase the dream of the previous night … music and stillness and Kurt beside him.

Blaine tilted his head to the side as memories of last night rushed into focus in his sleep-hazed mind, had to make sure. But Kurt was there, eyes closed against the fractured light streaming in through Blaine’s blinds, illuminating lazy columns of dust motes.

Of course Kurt was still there. Blaine had invited him in and he’d stayed, stayed all night and slept on the ground, as hesitant as Blaine to break the tender, sacred magic of the night with meaningless words about comfortable sleep.  
“Kurt,” Blaine whispered.

Kurt’s eyelids fluttered for the briefest moment before they opened. His lips quirked into a smile and he stretched his arms over his head in a lazy way that made Blaine wonder if he had been awake before Blaine said his name.

“Morning,” Blaine said softly.

“We’re late for chapel aren’t we,” Kurt groaned, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to care at the moment, a gruff morning edge to his voice.

Kurt sat up to peer down at Blaine who was still stretched out on the floor. Kurt looking the picture of sleepy disarray; his hair a mess of unbecoming waves and straight locks sticking up all over his head, dark circles under his eyes and dried liquid at their corners, crinkling his skin. His dressing gown askew and pushing his pajamas down, exposing a shoulder and the corner of his collarbone.

Kurt groaned again as he tried to flatten his hair with no avail, “I need to get ready.”

“You’re beautiful,” Blaine said in a rush.

He’d meant to say something, well, something a little closer to appropriate for this particular situation than _that_. Maybe something about how he’d wanted to talk to him but hadn’t found the right way before, how he was glad somehow that he had stayed, maybe ask if there was another album he wanted to listen to some other night. 

But Blaine never had been very good with keeping his brain ahead of his mouth. “I mean- I- uh,” Blaine stuttered and stammered and then gave up with a shrug, “it’s true.”

Kurt blushed, pink tinging his cheeks as he ducked his head, bringing it back up tilted to the side to fix Blaine with a curious expression.

“Well thank you, Blaine.”

Blaine grinned and Kurt studied him a moment longer before smiling back and erupting into an uncontrolled laugh that would most definitely be better described as a giggle. A high tinkling sound that made something warm bounce around in Blaine’s chest as Kurt folded over with his barely contained laughter. Blaine was unable to keep from joining in on the ridiculous display of simple joy.

And just like that Blaine knew, in the late groggy morning and bright sun warming his skin, they were friends.

-

Blaine felt like his mind was going in a thousand different directions as he rushed through his morning routine. He somehow felt both warm and numb all over, his hands uncoordinated as he dressed himself in a fresh uniform. 

Before leaving his room Blaine checked over his appearance carefully in the mirror to make sure everything was just so before bustling down the hall to meet Kurt at the top of the stairs.

Blaine found Kurt with his hair swooped carefully back, his black jacket and scarf perfectly in place, one penny-loafered toe tapping as he waited for Blaine at the stairwell.

“Ready,” Blaine said with a grin and then they were off, jogging across the empty campus. The chill, blustery wind making their eyes water and bare skin sting even as they grew uncomfortably warm beneath their clothes.

They had to wind their way around the memorial fountain to get to the chapel, not sparing a glance for the unseeing, vague shapes - symbols of dead heroes in some forgotten war. Too high on laughing at their own good luck - to be alive in brisk sunlight. The chapel doors opened and uniformed students started streaming into the quad while Kurt and Blaine were still running, filling the empty space with students dispersing to their first period classes.

With quickly muttered goodbyes Kurt and Blaine separated and melted into the crowd.

-

They found reasons to meet in the halls between classes. Passed notes since there was no time for anything beyond whispered “hellos” and a chance to rub elbows.

Blaine spent all day smiling giddily at the notes Kurt handed him between classes; funny and sarcastic and slightly biting they depicted an entertaining running commentary on his day. Blaine jotting down responses in class the precious notes tucked half under his notebook of orderly class notes.

Blaine skipped lunch to write up an essay he’d forgotten about, perching on the edge of the fountain where Kurt liked to read sometimes. His cheeks were already a little numb with the cold by the time Kurt bustled out of the dining hall, face breaking into a wide grin when he saw Blaine.

Blaine and Kurt used the rest of their lunch period to commiserate over assigned seats for lunch and the general idiocy of their peers. It was all very indulgent and maybe a little mean. But Blaine, who had managed for a while now to ignore much of the goings ons of prep school social politics in favor of watching from a distance, didn't see a downside to letting Kurt steamroll over their peers.

"They're not really so bad are they?" Blaine said when Kurt had finally finished up a rather long-winded description of Patrick's look of confusion when he had failed to understand the insult Kurt had flung at him.

An unreadable expression fell over Kurt's face. "I did nothing to make them hate me."

"They're awful, God I know they're awful. But the way- the way you can just- not let it get to you...It just seems like you’re so above it all you know." really admire that about you, Blaine thought.

"Yeah well a bunch of idiotic dicks trying to irritate me isn't the worst thing that's happened to me."

Blaine let silence fall between them, wondering if he should ask, or offer condolences, or something. But the Kurt sitting across from him bore more resemblance to the Kurt Blaine had watched for weeks - mysterious and untouchable - then the Kurt who had spent the night visiting with him the night before, open and vulnerable. Blaine might have asked that Kurt. But right now he couldn't bring himself to ask this Kurt why he had shown up at Dalton, seemingly alone. What had happened to him Before.

So Blaine let it drop. And after a while Kurt sighed, turned to Blaine and said simply, “You're right. They don't deserve my attention. So, how was your day?"

 

{}{}{}

 

“Looks like someone finally got up the nerve to make a new friend.” 

Monty had caught up to Blaine on the way to their biology class, poking Blaine’s rib with his bony elbow as Blaine watched Kurt’s retreating form. “Congratulations, how did you ever work up the courage?”

Blaine smiled, blushing despite himself as he launched into a very abridged version of how Kurt had mixed up their rooms (long story) and ended up spending the night, talking in whispers with music playing until they both fell asleep.

“You know, I’ve never seen you quite so doe-eyed, and that’s saying something for you, Blainey. So don’t even try to say you haven’t already planned your wedding because I can practically smell it on you.”

Blaine opened his mouth to retort before he remembered he’d been thinking about how good they’d both look in navy blue tuxes and maybe, maybe, he was picturing them in said tuxes at a tasteful yet understated and elegant event venue. He closed his mouth with a snap.

“Mhmm, that’s what I thought.”

“Kurt is special.”

“You’ve got it bad, Anderson,” Monty said over his shoulder as he ducked into a classroom.

 

{}{}{}

 

Kurt set them up in the library after last period; showing Blaine his favorite spot to study. It was way down in the basement. Tucked behind stacks of periodicals and racks of newspapers there was a little nook with a forgotten study table. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, the stately rows of well-lit desks between heavy wooden shelves upstairs seemed to hold the more obvious appeal. But it was empty of the potential for taunting jeers and held it’s own cave-like appeal that Blaine thought he could get behind.

“Its nice,” Blaine said, glancing beside him to see Kurt smiling at him with a highly satisfied smirk.

“Its perfect, actually.”

“How’d you find it?”

“Lots of searching for somewhere quiet where no one would bother me.”

“What if I bother you?”

“I’m confident that won’t happen.”

“Well in that case I appreciate your confidence,” Blaine said lightly.

Blaine experienced the same sort of pleasant warm feeling he had had that morning as he set up his homework right across from Kurt.

All it took was Kurt sliding his foot up next to Blaine’s under the table and Blaine had to bite back a gasp. Blaine was shocked by the fizzing electricity of the simple touch, even through layers of wool and leather. All of a sudden it felt like Blaine had more feeling in the side of his foot currently touching Kurt’s then he ever had in the rest of his body.

So Blaine did the only natural thing and slid his other foot up beside Kurt’s, the toe of his loafer tracing random lines along the sole of Kurt’s shoe. It felt familiar in a way that kept that warmth in Blaine’s chest, that simple touch assuring Blaine that Kurt was there, even as their easy conversation dropped off and Blaine made a valiant attempt to concentrate on his homework.

Kurt and Blaine only paused a few times for conversation as Kurt flew through his work with feverish-quick accuracy, re-reading and double-checking every assignment. When he was done he snapped his books closed precisely and stood up.

“Are you going?” Blaine could still feel Kurt’s foot resting against him, the absence tingling.

“Going?” Kurt asked mystified, his gaze darting towards the row of archived newspapers, “of course not, I have a project I’m working on.”

So Blaine watched him work, his interest piqued but not wanting to disturb. Following Kurt’s movements as he dug through micro cards and trays of physical newspapers, drumming his fingers along his jaw as he read, heels clicking across the floor to the catalogue, pulling out one drawer and then another, toe tapping as he scribbled notes into a well-worn composition notebook.

“What are you researching?"

"Things I don't know."

"How mysterious."

Kurt grinned, "indeed."

"I could help."

Kurt didn't look up from his notes, "you're not done with your homework."

"A perfectionist’s homework is never done."

Kurt finally looked up, head cocked to the side thoughtfully. "WestervIlle is a very strange place."

"Is it?"

"Very."

"So. You read...old newspapers from Westerville because it’s interesting since it’s strange."

"I was born here. My parents were from here." Kurt's voice was just slightly quieter as he said it.

"Are they-" _dead?_ Blaine started to say before he realized he had once again spoken before he thought it through.

"They died when I was little, I grew up with my grandparents."

The words sounded just a little sharp and Blaine was reminded that he didn't really know Kurt in any way except a gut feeling that they were meant to know each other. So Blaine, again, didn't press Kurt for anything more.

By late evening Blaine was nothing short of starving, gathering up his things and offering Kurt an invitation to join him in the dining hall. Kurt waved away the invitation casually, saying they’d see each other later. And Blaine went off to dinner with no doubt in his mind that they would.

-

After dinner, Blaine watched the hours creep by slowly as he dawdled through leftover homework. With nighttime descending, Blaine’s body had decided to turn into a thrumming ball of excitable energy. There was always something about the dorm’s quiet at night- turning to silence around him after the flux of showers and chatter in the hallway had passed. 

When Blaine ran out of schoolwork to keep himself busy he set about sorting through his collection of albums. Wondering if Kurt would show up and trying to decide if he should go over to Kurt's room instead if it got late enough. Or, maybe, he should give it a rest. Except that there was so much about Kurt he didn’t know. So much he wanted to ask. The idea of putting off any and all conversation for another whole night seemed nothing short of crazy.

Night wore on and the world turned perfectly still, only Blaine’s window into the moon-swept lawns giving him a glimpse of the outside world. Old thick walls blocking out whatever sound of late night gossip or music might have been issuing from the rooms of unknown fellow night owls.

-

“Blaine?” Kurt appeared in his doorway without knocking, looking the same as the previous night, though Blaine noticed he had taken the time to lightly style his wet hair back from his forehead.

“Hey,” Blaine said quietly, smiling as Kurt ducked into his room and closed the door behind him with a click.

“So we’re choosing music for the evening?” Kurt said brightly, folding his legs under him as he sat next to Blaine on the floor, admiring the fan of albums Blaine had spread out around him, “wow these are great,” Kurt added running his fingers over the covers of some of Blaine’s old favorites that he’d borrowed from his parent’s collection.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so this is, well, everything I have,” Blaine said watching Kurt’s face light up as he grazed over the covers with his index finger.

“Well definitely not any of these,” Kurt said pushing aside a pile of Blaine’s well-worn pop albums.

“Am I detecting the subtle hints of music snobbery here, Kurt?” It felt good to joke, to feel like they knew each other well enough to tease without any real fear of overstepping.

“If music snobbery is demanding something more than fluff lyrics and flat musicality, then yes.”

“Sometimes you need fluff lyrics and simple, catchy tunes,” Blaine said with a shrug.

“Yeah. You’re right about that,” Kurt said, suddenly serious but not looking up from the sleeve he was reading over.

“I haven’t heard this one in a while,” Kurt said, sliding a record out of its battered sleeve and placing it on the player. “But tomorrow I am bringing my collection and treating you to a musical education, so prepare yourself now.” Kurt said it with a smile on his face as he settled himself on the floor with his back against Blaine’s bed. Closer to where Blaine was sitting than would have been necessary, arms wrapped around his knees and his stockinged feet thrumming out the beat against Blaine’s area rug.

Blaine settled in more comfortably at Kurt’s side, letting the music swell around him, the thick dip and swell of one song followed by the flighty whimsical airs of the next. Kurt and Blaine chatted and listened in turn, content to sit close and let their conversation ebb and flow casually, simple and relaxed, like Kurt and Blaine had been friends for years instead of only just starting to get to know each other.

As night wore on and their conversation grew more and more sparse, Blaine found himself curling into a rather uncomfortable ball on the floor across from Kurt, consumed with the same sense of fragile balance that had marked their previous night. It seemed so vital to not shake the fragile reality of shared space, the chaste intimacy of drifting into vulnerable sleep beside each other.

_Part II_

 

Blaine realized right away that Kurt was infectiously easy to talk to. Blaine could spend hours just listening with effortless, rapt attention as Kurt revealed by slow degrees a host of affectionate eccentricities, each new discovery making Kurt ever more real in Blaine’s mind. Blaine loved Kurt for his pretentious taste in music and theater (even if he did tease him gently for it). For his unquenchable curiosity and boisterous, entirely unashamed passion. He talked about music and fashion like the world revolved around them and the way he spoke, Blaine couldn’t help believing it was true.

With every day that passed Blaine wanted to know more. To understand everything there was to know about this boy. The sharp dichotomy between the cool persona he projected to everyone else and the unguarded moments he seemed to let himself sink into with Blaine, the way both sides so seamlessly fit together as Kurt- no contradiction at all. 

As weeks passed, Blaine and Kurt became virtually inseparable, Blaine wondering from time to time how he had ever functioned without Kurt in his life.

 

{}{}{}

 

Blaine yawned heavily, Kurt mirroring him with a yawn of his own, arching his back as he stretched his arms over his head, blinking heavy lids as the needle from the record fell onto empty space.

Blaine had learned there was a limit to how many nights he and Kurt could stand to sleep sprawled out on the floor, their nightly visits ending in middle of the night goodbyes as often as they let their conversation melted seamlessly into slightly uncomfortable sleep. 

There was a simple enough solution, if Blaine could convince himself it wasn’t actually a big deal and he shouldn’t be afraid to say it out loud.

“You should just stay,” Blaine said finally, getting up to turn off the record player, “it’s silly to walk the whole way back to your room.”

Kurt cocked a brow at him, turning his head to the side in that way that Blaine had learned to associate with disapproved questioning.

“Why do you want me to stay?”

“Don’t you think it’s nice, falling asleep together?”

_Nice_ wasn’t the right word, not at all, but Blaine didn’t have the capacity to go searching about the recesses of his mind for the right one at the moment. It was something about how he never wanted these nights to end and this was the only way it didn’t have to, how spending the night warm and snug with Kurt mere inches away seemed better than anything he could ever deserve.

“Okay,” Kurt said eyeing Blaine’s twin bed, “but the host is the one who has to squash themselves against the wall.”

“I suppose that’s only fair,” Blaine said. He couldn’t care, not when Kurt had just agreed without a single qualm, pulling back the covers to climb into bed, not quite managing to hide his grin at their newest sleeping arrangement.

“You don’t always sleep in your uniform do you?” Kurt crossed his arms, looking like he was about to tease Blaine about it before he thought better of it and his face turned serious, turning the comment into a genuine question.  
“Um,” Blaine didn’t really feel like launching into a discussion about exactly how many times he had crash landed into sleep still in his Dalton issued button up and slacks, or the fact that his pajamas were shoved somewhere in the corner of his closet untouched since, well, the start of term.

“Right,” Blaine said, starting mechanically towards his closet. “Um,” Blaine said again to fill the silence, he could feel Kurt watching him and with a sudden feeling of unease Blaine realized he’d have to tell Kurt, at least in part, the convoluted, confusing- even-to-himself explanation of why he felt better sleeping in clothes than the comparable unpreparedness of pajamas and how it wasn’t Kurt (because it had been years) and no he didn’t understand why and...

“I don’t really-” Blaine started before he saw Kurt turn beet red from the tip of his ears to his neck.

“Oh my God. You- oh gosh- you sleep in the buff,” Kurt stammered out, “okay yeah please sleep in your uniform because that, um yeah, I’m not quite- that- um, okay,” Kurt finally cut off, his lips pursed.

“Oh! Oh no,” Blaine got out on a laugh, “not that. I just-”

Kurt was his friend, best friend, they’d been inseparable for weeks so why was it so hard to just try and explain?

“It’s just- anyone could come in you know? I don’t like the idea of being...vulnerable I guess, just in my pajamas you know? I hate pranks.”

Kurt’s face softened and Blaine had a feeling Kurt knew without Blaine needing to recount any of the embarrassing stories from years worth of prep school ridiculousness.

I have enough trouble sleeping you know, it’s just easier.”

“Of course.”

“So you don’t think I’m a freak?”

“Blaine, why do you think I shower at one am?”

“More hot water?”

“Because Patrick, well I think it was Patrick, they stole my towel the first night.”

“They didn’t.”

“Yep. Pretty damn humiliating.”

Kurt’s tone was light enough but his face was heating up with more than embarrassment, there was anger there too.

“I’m sorry.”

“Well at least they announced what assholes they were from the very start so I didn’t have to waste any time figuring it out myself.”

“True.” After all it had taken Blaine a lot longer to accept that there were plenty among his peers that he didn’t need to waste his time trying to be overly friendly with. Civil he could do, but he’d learned, eventually, not to actively seek their approval.

Blaine crawled into bed with Kurt after him. There was enough space on the bed for two small frames to fit comfortably enough side by side without being entirely scrunched up against each other, though Blaine felt like he had to literally wedge himself partially in the gap between the mattress and wall to make sure Kurt had enough room. That was okay though.

“How do you always see the bright side of everything?” Blaine asked once they were settled.

“I have to.”

Blaine rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow, watching Kurt shift his head to the side and meet his gaze. Blaine gave him a sad, reassuring sort of smile. “So, why Dalton? I mean, you could have gone anywhere right?” Blaine asked casually, an attempt to change the subject.

“There was money, in the will, put aside for my education. Dalton was suggested. It’s where my Dad went, and his dad, actually both my grandfathers, I think, I’m still trying to figure it out. Westervelts my mom’s side, they’ve been here forever, maybe you know? Like founders old Westerville, yeah, interesting stuff. But um Grandma wanted me to come out here starting with Freshman year but I didn’t want to leave her. But the rest of the Hummel family is all out here, so it just made sense, after.

“I suppose that does make sense then.”

“I had all these ideas about coming back too, coming home, like being in the same place that they lived would make me feel closer to them. When just being here didn’t- didn’t make me feel anything, I went down to the archives looking for articles about them. I just wanted to see the wedding announcement, or you know, read some of the headlines from when they were living here.”

“But it didn’t?”

“I just don’t think it works like that. I can read everything there is to know about Westerville, read every local newspaper from every year they were alive. It doesn’t change the fact that I never really knew them.”

“Actually, it sucked coming back here,” Kurt added. There was a meeting, a _meeting_ in New York _the day after the funeral_. Where all the Hummels, there aren’t really any relatives from my mom’s side alive any more, got together to talk about who was going to take me. It’s just for vacations and summers and I’ll be on my own in a year or so. But sitting there listening to them talk like- like- who was going to be stuck with me. Well I should have realized then that coming back here wouldn’t be at all like coming home.”

“That’s awful, Kurt.”

“It could be worse.”

“But it isn’t,” Blaine said, “and it isn’t better either.”

“It’s better with you.”

It wasn’t until their conversation had lulled and Blaine was feeling the heavy pull of sleep that Kurt’s voice swam over Blaine’s lingering consciousness again.

“For the record, I think it’s nice too, sleeping like this I mean, I like knowing you’re there.”

Blaine made a humming noise of satisfaction that he wouldn’t have allowed himself under the influence of more seriously awake brain function and let himself drift off into contented sleep. 

-

There was something about sharing a twin bed that cemented a friendship in a way nothing else quite could.

Blaine felt it immediately, waking to Kurt’s arm slung over his face. Kurt looking sleep mussed and as breathlessly beautiful as he had in the unreality of that first morning together.

“Sleep comfortably?” Blaine asked.

“Excellently.”

“Told you it’d be better.”  
Kurt swung his legs down, cracking the knuckles on both hands in two quick motions before he stood up, “and now I have to go back to my room and make myself presentable to the world. Wait for me in the common room?”

“See you in a bit,” Blaine grinned, feeling like the luckiest boy in the world.

 

{}{}{}

 

“Something interesting today?”

Kurt was tearing through newspapers with alarming speed that afternoon, he hadn’t even gotten through his homework before he decided to start his daily extracurricular research, as Blaine had learned, following leads about the Westervelt and Hummel families from years back.

The reference librarian had been dragged down from his desk upstairs several times at Kurt’s insistence that he help him locate this or that article. Mr. Hatcher had a face that rather looked like he was eternally irritated about something, a look that didn’t improve when Kurt insisted there was an entire decade of the Dalton Crest student newspapers missing from the periodical shelf (it was eventually located in the basement supply closet). Mr. Hatcher looking extremely irritated and muttering under his breath as he drug the box out.

“I told you Westerville is a strange place,” Kurt said.

“Okay.”

“The county has a curiously low average age of death. There’s no other comparable county, size, crime rate etc. where so many young people seem to die.”

“Well that’s, strange I guess, uh where are you getting these numbers from?” Blaine asked distractedly, he couldn’t see how this latest interest had anything to do with Kurt’s unwavering interest in Westerville’s contemporary history.

“County records, Blaine, but that’s not the important part. You know there was a student who died on campus twenty years ago?”

“Um no, I never heard.”

“Of course you didn’t, don’t you think it’s kind of weird that there’s not so much as a bench with his name on it to honor his memory? They found his body right in the middle of the quad and we don’t even have a plaque with his name on it?”

“Well maybe his parents didn’t want-”  
“And he wasn’t the only one, there were at least two other student deaths in the decade before that. There’s something just not right about all this. And you know they never did figure out what happened with my parents’ accident...”

“Kurt...”

“And that’s not all Blaine, look at these, it’s like- it’s like someone was trying to cover up this student’s death,” Kurt said grabbing student newspapers from the pile he had spread out across most of the table and lining them up in front of Blaine, finally putting a copy of the Westerville Record right at the top.

Blaine skimmed the article detailing the death of a Dalton student.

“It says he had a heart condition,” Blaine said.

“Well they had to say something didn’t they. Look at the school newspapers.”  
The first one was from the same week, the following four were from subsequent weeks. Blaine skimmed the headlines quickly, details of a big soccer win, a recap from the visit of a popular motivational speaker, and nothing about the student that had died.

“Not a single mention of Matthew Wright’s death, not one, for a month and a half, five editions of the Dalton Crest, until we get that,” Kurt said pointing out a one inch article, “a begrudging, miniature, in memorial, that’s it, the only time they ever mention Wright. Don’t you think that’s a bit strange?”

Kurt’s face was flushed with excitable energy, lighting up his features and making his eyes sparkle, the effect exaggerated by the artificial lighting.

“Any theories?” Blaine asked slowly. Because he just didn’t know quite what to make of Kurt’s keen interest in some obscure county record numbers, and jumping to all kinds of conclusions. And this was all just casual speculation, Kurt couldn’t possibly believe that, what, it sounded ridiculous to even think it, that someone had just been going around killing people for years and Kurt was the only one who had noticed? That Matthew Wright’s death had really been an unsolved murder case?

“A few. I’ve mostly just been digging around for some kind of motive, trying to get a feel for what Dalton was like when he was here, you know. But there’s so much I can’t even guess at.”

“Right,” Blaine muttered suddenly distracted, there was a prickle of unease worming its way into the back of his mind. “Kurt, there’s a chance, of course, that he just died.”

Something fluttered across Kurt’s features and Blaine cringed internally as Kurt’s features shifted from uncomfortable to something very close to angry.

“And there’s a chance that someone killed him, killed all of them,” Kurt said in a clipped tone that was edging too close towards anger to be considered anything close to scientific. Kurt started gathering his things with sharp movements.

“Kurt wait, why are you angry? I didn’t mean-”

Kurt paused at the bottom of the metal spiral staircase. “I told you-” Kurt started, not really angry, more just spluttering, _off_ and blaine had never seen him quite like this and it was terrible. “I told you...” and with that he left.

-

Blaine tried to give Kurt space. He sat in the library and tried to think about his homework, but Kurt missing from his place across their table proved too much of a distraction. It didn’t take long for Blaine to convince himself it would be better if he ran after Kurt. He still didn’t know what to make of ‘I told you.’ Was it the fact that he had shared exactly how far he had delved into Westerville’s history? Was he embarrassed? Or was Kurt talking more in general, about opening up and sharing with Blaine? Had Blaine really betrayed his trust just by hinting at the fact that Kurt could be overreacting?

Blaine threw his things into his bag and hurtled upstairs, setting off on a path towards their residence hall.

Kurt’s voice carrying across the lawn grabbed Blaine’s attention and he swiveled in a full circle to find where it had come from, finally spotting Kurt at the middle of a knot of students.

Blaine recognized the lean, towering form of Patrick standing opposite Kurt, his blonde hair glinting in the sunlight. Blaine could tell immediately this wasn’t a typical encounter. When Blaine and Kurt were together they simply brushed these encounters off, never saying more than a quick retort and most definitely not stopping to full on argue in the middle of the lawn.

“Oh sure!” Kurt yelled, “Sure, Patrick, I’m the freak right? And why exactly is that? Because I can think for myself? Because I actually care about my classes? Because I’m not afraid of the unfamiliar? What?”

“You don’t fit in here, Hummel, and you never will. Just do everyone a favor and go back to where you came from.”

“I know more about this place then you ever will for the simple reason I opened my eyes and looked!”

Patrick huffed and took a step further into Kurt’s personal space. His voice was quieter, and Blaine had to strain to hear even as he found himself drawn closer to the scene.

“What are you trying to say, Kurt?”

Kurt sneered, putting every ounce of bitter disdain he held into it.

“Well wouldn’t you like to know, wouldn’t you just love to know how fucked up your precious Dalton really is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“All you superficial-”

“Knock it off!”

“-Stuck-up, snobby, pretenders, you don’t even know what you’re defending.”  
“I don’t like your tone Hummel, what the fuck are you getting at!” Patrick yelled getting that much closer.

“Hey Kurt,” Blaine said trying to sound casual, and elbowing himself through to Kurt’s side, “you want to go hang out?” Blaine asked as if he was completely oblivious to the high tension argument he had just walked in on.

Kurt huffed, crossed and uncrossed his arms, “anything that’s far away from present company,” Kurt said giving a look so distinctly down his nose it would almost be amusing if Blaine didn’t know exactly why he was using it.

“What was that all about?” Blaine asked when they had safely evaded the scene and Kurt had deflated some.

“I’m just so sick of them thinking that Dalton is so precious, like I’m not good enough to be here, maybe I don’t even want to be here. And it’s just, it’s just all so stupid, I could run circles around any of them academically and my family is from here and I do belong here for goodness sake. But if I say that, then it sounds like I actually care about them liking me or _accepting me_ or whatever, and I don’t.”

“Okay, so just ignore them. Don’t let them gat you all angry and upset.”

“I can argue with them if I want to, Blaine.”

“Okay,” Blaine said still a little confused, not wanting to create more tension, he let it drop.

 

{}{}{}

 

Blaine waited.

And waited.

Kurt had said he was taking a shower and he’d be over as soon as he was done, but that had been half an hour ago and Kurt still hadn’t made an appearance.

Blaine dragged his notes off his desk and onto the bed in front of him, resigning himself to one more quick review before his exam the next day. 

Indistinct voices suddenly broke the silence and Blaine looked up sharply from his studies, a prickle of unease coursing down his spine. Then he made out Kurt’s voice amongst the scrabble, high and panicked.

Blaine’s door ricocheted off the wall with a bang as he rushed into the hall. Fingers skimming over the walls as he rounded the corner, past rows of silent dorm rooms full of sleeping students who hadn’t been straining to hear their friend’s approaching footsteps. Blaine’s stomach lurched horribly at the sight of Kurt’s open door, Blaine’s whole body strung taut and shaking with adrenaline as he ducked inside.

Blaine froze, his heart pounding horribly, chest constricted tight like he was being crushed as he took in the scene in front of him. Kurt said Blaine’s name as soon as he saw him, relief unfolding across his features.

Patrick was standing behind Kurt, blonde hair slightly mussed and his lips twisted into their usual permanent sneer. There was simply nothing convenient about Patrick finding Kurt’s room in the middle of the night, and the pure focus and specifics of his intrusion had Blaine’s skin crawling before he even realized Patrick had his hand clutched claw-like on Kurt’s shoulder.

“What’s going on here?”

“How suitable that you happened to find us Blaine, this rather concerns you too.”  
“Get out,” Blaine said, his gaze darting between Kurt and Patrick.

Patrick erupted into overly loud laughter and Kurt took the opportunity to duck out of Patrick’s grasp and slip lightening fast to Blaine’s side. “Never would have pegged you as a hero type,” Patrick said making a show of wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes.

“I kind of love how dreadfully over dramatic you get- all riled up,” Patrick added, taking measured steps until he was directly in front of them, “haven’t seen you like this in ages,” Patrick said sneering, leaning into Blaine’s space.

“I suggest you two stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong before I give you something a little more memorable than a nighttime visit.”

“Or you get yourself in the kind of trouble you don’t get out of,” Patrick finished sharply, laying his hands flat on Kurt’s chest as he passed by and giving him a shove that had Kurt stumbling backwards into the wall at the unexpectedness of it.

The door slammed behind Patrick before Kurt or Blaine had time to interrogate him about what he could possibly mean.

“Kurt, you alright?” Blaine started to ask as Kurt sagged against the wall, shaking as anger rippled through his whole body and he tried to wipe away the evidence of his quickly falling tears.

“You should go,” Kurt said, the words muffled by his hands swiping over his face.

“Kurt?”

“I said you should go.”

“Please, Kurt I- I’m sorry, just-” Blaine stammered, not even sure what he was apologizing for. He just knew Kurt was upset and angry and Blaine didn’t feel like he deserved any of Kurt’s anger at the moment.

“Please Blaine, I just need you to go. Go!”

Then Kurt’s hand was at his arm, pushing him forward and Blaine felt himself move numbly under Kurt’s hand until the door was shut fast behind him.

Blaine wandered numbly back down the hall he had just rushed through and collapsed on his bed, hurt and confused, his brain regurgitating image after image of Kurt angry and upset. He eventually drifted off into an exhausted sleep, waking the next day feeling like he hadn’t slept at all.

-  
In the scramble of getting ready the next morning Blaine’s foot slid coming over the threshold to his dorm. Blaine snatched up the creamy envelope he’d almost fallen over.  
There was nothing in the inside, just a blank envelope with two words written on it.

 

_I’m sorry.  
-K_

 

Blaine slid the pad of his fingertip over Kurt’s elegantly scrawled initial before tucking the envelope into his pocket.

-

On the way to breakfast Blaine looked for Kurt on the lawn. Craned his neck and hiked his pea coat up higher towards his jaw as he gazed through the sea of students milling about, searching for a glimpse of Kurt’s bronze-brown hair in the crowd. But Kurt was nowhere to be seen. 

Blaine kept his eyes peeled all day for him, an anxious feeling was growing with each passing moment as Blaine realized there was no possible explanation except that Kurt was avoiding him on purpose.

After classes, Blaine walked a circuit around campus, determined to check every spot Kurt he had ever frequented. The whole way from the edges of the athletic fields up to the massive elm that stood beside Dalton’s driveway up on a hill before it dipped down into Westerville.

By the time Blaine reached the library’s front door and still hadn’t found Kurt, Blaine resigned himself to just waiting at their basement table for Kurt to show up. Maybe giving him some space for a while was a better idea anyway.

Reaching for the door, Blaine glanced down towards the creek that snaked its way through the lawn behind the library, dividing the school grounds from the expanse of fields on the other side. Hunched against a barren tree with a book in front of his face was a frame Blaine recognized instantly as Kurt’s.

Blaine changed course, heading down the grassy knoll. Kurt looked up as Blaine approached, his head against the trunk of the tree, squinting in the sunlight until Blaine was directly in front of him.

Blaine took it as a good sign that Kurt didn’t immediately ask him to leave.

“Hey stranger,” Blaine said casually.

“Might as well sit down,” Kurt said marking his page before closing his book and tossing it aside.

Blaine obliged, folding his legs in on himself and pulling idly at tufts of grass to keep his hands busy.

“What are you sorry about?” Blaine asked quietly after the silence had stretched on and Kurt had made no attempt to speak.

“For dragging you into this-” Kurt waved his hands around vaguely, “this- whatever this is. You don’t deserve to have to deal with my crap. It’s not fair that I always bring you down, so- so I’m sorry I had to ruin your evening, yet again.”

That hurt, ached the way a betrayal might; that Kurt would possibly think Blaine didn’t even care.

“Kurt, we’re friends, best friends,” Blaine said. Maybe more Blaine wanted to add because Kurt looked so beautiful in the bright crisp winter sunlight it was almost painful, “friends are there for each other, simple. You never, never _bring me down_. Kurt, you’re the best thing thats ever happened to me. Nothings going to change that. Certainly not some stupid prank of Patrick’s.”

Blaine got a small smile for that but it disappeared a moment later, “I could have handled it myself you know.”

“I know, there is nothing week about you, Kurt, but its okay to need someone.”

Kurt huffed out a breath of dismissal but he swiveled his eyes towards the sky and Blaine could tell he was trying to hold back tears.

“It’s not okay Blaine, it’s not okay because I don’t- because no one-”

“Hey, shhh,” Blaine whispered, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Kurt’s torso. Kurt let him, his arms coming around Blaine’s back to hold him close as Blaine cradled him. “You have your aunt and uncle, they care about you, they love you, and all your cousins.”

“I guess.”

“Oh Kurt they do, they have to, how could they not adore you?”

“Blaine.”

“And you’re always going to have me. Shhh, yes you are, you’re simply stuck with me for always, I can’t bear the thought of living without you, so please, just keep putting up with me.”

“I don’t _just put up with you_ ,” Kurt said with a slightly watery voice.

“I know,” Blaine said softly because despite his attempt at assuring Kurt he did still feel like they both knew what they meant to each other without having to say. Even if certain labels they might fall under, like ‘boyfriend’, remained blank.

There was a moment’s silence before Kurt said “thanks Blaine,” in a slightly rasping whisper.  
Blaine turned to dig through his bag. “I snagged you some food when I didn’t see you at lunch,” Blaine said, pulling out a thermos and a cheese sandwich wrapped in napkins and handing it off. “Not exactly gourmet, but under the circumstances it was the best I could do.”

“That dining hall staff doesn’t even know what gourmet means,” Kurt said in his customary sharp tone, smiling gratefully as he poured coffee into the thermos’ cup-lid, “Coffee, on the other hand, is always good. Thank you, Blaine.”

There were snowflakes starting to fall. Big fat things, so infrequent you might not even notice if you weren’t sitting right outside in it.

Kurt and Blaine sat watching them fall until there was a hard gust of wind and flakes started to fall in earnest. They rushed to pick up their things, giggling their way into the library, stomping numbness from their toes, and ignoring the angry stare from the reference librarian as they tried to hush each other. Which only resulted in more giggles, their fingers ghosting over one another’s coats as they made their way to their usual table.

 

{}{}{}

 

“So are you taking your boyfriend home for Christmas?” Monty asked over dinner, his attention still focused on the spaghetti he was eating.

“Boyfriend?”

Monty’s head jerked up to reveal studiously narrowed eyes trained on Blaine. “The charmingly enigmatic Mr. Hummel of course.”

“You thought Kurt and I were boyfriends?” Blaine stammered. It didn’t make sense since Monty had barely even seen them for weeks, wrapped up in the busy schedule of his competitive oratory club.

Monty’s eyes narrowed that much more, “wait, you thought you weren’t? Blaine, you two are inseparable, you traipse around campus holding hands, _you sleep over every night_.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s just- that’s not anything, that’s just the kind of things friends always do right?”

“We fell asleep one time together when that radio show marathon was on all night and you have _never_ held my hand. Now either Kurt is _something special_ , or I’m about to have a serious case of an inferiority complex because maybe we’re barely even friends,” Monty finished with more sass than Blaine was accustomed to getting from him.

Blaine thought it better not to point out that what Kurt and he shared didn’t exactly compare to the casual friendship he kept up with Monty- which he valued; it just wasn’t quite the same.

So maybe Monty had a point. What Blaine had with Kurt _was_ different. That didn’t mean it had to develop into something romantic though. 

Though Blaine thought, in that corner of his mind he didn’t really let think too hard, that that’s exactly what he might have wanted from the start. Feelings he kept tamped down because Kurt needed a friend, not a pursuer. 

And maybe because Blaine didn’t want to be that vulnerable, put his feelings on the line and have them be crushed. Didn’t want to risk losing what they had. 

There were a dozen reasons why it was better to leave things as they were. The risk was losing everything- Blaine couldn’t even think about that possibility.

“Oh my God, you haven’t even thought about it have you?” Monty exclaimed, and Blaine looked up sharply, pulled out of his thoughts.

“Blaine, you are such an idiot sometimes. You’ve got to stop stringing that boy along and make a move.”

“I didn’t- I mean- but we- it’s so easy- what we have-”

“You have to ask him out.”

“Wait, what? I don’t even know if he wants- I mean he hasn’t asked me out or anything.”

“Oh no, he’s just contentedly petting your arm and taking you out on moon-lit strolls, like that isn’t dating at all. This is a two man effort, Blaine, and Kurt has most definitely paved the way for you.”

“You mean, you mean you think Kurt thinks we’re dating?”

“I think he wants to ask you out but he’s hesitant because he’s been throwing out hints for weeks and you haven’t run with any of them so now he’s second guessing himself.”

“That’s a lot to observe,” Blaine said, side-eyeing Monty.

“I have a fair amount of experience in the second-guessing-potential-romantic-partner-things. Just take my advice and ask him.”

“So say I do decide I want to-”

“Ask him to the party!”

“That’s not much of a date.”

“Trust me. Ask him to the party,” Monty said with the kind of finality that meant Blaine didn’t think it was a good time to point out the string of failures that littered Monty’s high school dating career.

-

“Monty wants us to go to this party some of the guys are having in the old boathouse,” Blaine brought up during a lull in conversation that night. It was twilight, he and Kurt meandering their way through the grounds down by the creek out near the athletic fields, scarves wrapped tight against the cold and their gloved hands tangled together between them as they walked.

Kurt lifted one brow in question. “ _Monty_ wants _us_ to go?” Kurt asked like he doubted Blaine’s understanding of Monty’s intentions. “What’s this party about?”

“Party is not the best word for it. It’s more just sitting around with a few nicked bottles of beer so... I mean, it’ll be dull as all get out... Do you want to come?”

“You should go. Monty’s going to start thinking I’m stealing you away from him.”

Blaine laughed out a harsh sound, and cringed at the show of nerves. “They can be fun. It’ll probably just be Oratory Club people, no one that’ll give you any trouble. Someone will drag a record player down there... I, uh, I’d like it a lot if you came, with me, if you wanted to, I mean we could go, together. Like- _together_ ,” Blaine finished lamely.

“Okay,” Kurt said at last looking pleased, “sure.”

“Really?”

“Really Blaine,” Kurt said with a smile and a firm squeeze to Blaine’s fingers that Blaine swore sent electricity the whole way up to his shoulder and straight to his pounding heart.

-

The night of the party arrived quickly. Blaine was nervous and clammy as he took Kurt’s hand to walk down through the darkened grounds, completely confused by how nervous he was. This was _Kurt_ after all, he should just relax. But knowing he should be able to didn’t make it any easier to actually do it though.

“Blaine! You made it!” Monty called from where he had staked out the center of one of the ancient sagging leather sofas. One of the few unfortunate specimens that had been dragged to the dilapidated boathouse for storage at one point or another and ended up transforming the structure into a favorite locale for less than savory activities. 

Someone had brought an ancient-looking victrola down that was blaring scratchy pop music. A gaggle of students were dancing clumsily but enthusiastically on the side of the boathouse farthest away from where the floor gave way to dock, the empty crew ports revealing dark creek water below. There was a knot of Crawford girls who seemed more entranced with the novelty of being snuck into a Dalton party than expressing any interest in socializing with said Dalton students, keeping to themselves in a corner of the dance floor. The abused sofa and chairs scattered with the remaining students present, chatting uncomfortably above the beat of the music.

The whole atmosphere was really rather depressing between the dilapidated state of the room, the awkward behavior of peers too excited with the idea of being a part of something so blatantly forbidden by school rules. The heady music turned up to loud so it scratched and rung in the closed space.

Blaine and Kurt grabbed drinks at a corner refreshments table, selecting orange sodas from a bizarre mismatched collection of sodas and drinks, before weaving their way through the crowd to where Monty was in conversation with a couple of his friends.

“Hey there, Kurt. Thanks for coming, man,” Monty said greeting Kurt and giving Blaine a wink.

Blaine and Kurt fell into easy conversation with Monty and his friends, Blaine watching Kurt’s face light up as he added to the silly chatter. It gave Blaine something of an ache deep down in his chest, realizing that this was probably how Kurt had been all the time in New York. Before he’d been marked as an outsider and different and had to close himself off. How tomorrow these same boys that laughed so easily at Kurt’s jokes would be hesitant to return a hello, checking over their shoulder to see who might notice them talking to Kurt. 

No one was safe from that kind subtle humiliation, suffering the effects of so much behavior policing, it was exhausting and Kurt seemed to always get the worst of it.

When Kurt and Blaine were rasp with the effort of trying to talk over the music they took a seat at the edge of the dock, letting their feet swing over the dark water below them. Sitting hip to hip and their hands tangled together in Kurt’s lap.

“I want to dance with you,” Blaine whispered in Kurt’s ear.

Kurt looked over his shoulder at the messy writhing attempts at dancing going on behind them.

“Do you maybe want to get out of here instead?” Kurt asked, looking at Blaine hopefully with an unreadable expression set in his features. 

Blaine nodded quickly.

Kurt took Blaine by the hand, and quickly led him through the party like no one else existed and out through the silent-still grounds. Kurt’s hand, warm and soft and firm in his, insistent pressure pulling him gently along, the throbbing music fading quickly to a low hum, and then nothing at all. Only the sound of their feet crushing down frozen grass, their too loud breathing, and Blaine swore he could hear their skin brush together where they were holding hands.

Kurt led them up the sloping lawn, weaving between the cherry blossom trees, to the dorm. Kurt dropped Blaine’s hand when they entered his room, and Blaine keenly felt the loss before Kurt turned to face him. The moonlight caught the sharp lines of Kurt’s features and Blaine sucked in a breath, struck anew by how beautiful Kurt was. 

Blaine had long since taken the time to learn every plane and line of Kurt’s face, every expression that was uniquely his. He cataloged his favorites every time Kurt had that particular look in his eye, that one specific, open expression that meant Blaine had permission to look. All the time in the world to take in the curve of Kurt’s wrist where it hung beside his thigh, the elegant line of his neck leading to his strong jaw, the stark, masculine features of his face and the sweet curve of his lips.

Blaine wanted to touch.

So very much wanted to reach up and run his fingers along Kurt’s pale cheek, to let his fingers find his hairline - sweeping back into that soft brown-bronze, to cup his hand behind his neck, lean in just that much closer -

Blaine took a fluttering step forward, his hand quivering at his side - desperate to be moved; but instead he stood frozen, his brain unable to carry out the command to his limb.

“Now we should dance,” Kurt said abruptly but softly, turning on his heel and flipping through Blaine’s albums with the same efficiency he used for research, looking for something specific. His fingers closed around the album, the one that had been playing the night Kurt had first walked in on Blaine. The arm of the record player came down over the vinyl and music flooded the room.

Kurt reached forward to grab Blaine’s hand again, holding it tentatively at first and then firmly, bringing their clasped hands up perpendicular to their bodies. Then Kurt wrapped his arm around Blaine’s waist, resting it over his lower back and Blaine felt like he could melt, shuddering at the gentle pressure there. Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand and smiled reassuringly, everything about this felt exactly right.

Blaine followed Kurt’s lead with what he knew was a wide-eyed, ridiculous look on his face but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not with his hand on Kurt’s shoulder and Kurt’s arm at his waist, urging him closer while they set a tight twirling motion through the limited space of Blaine’s room.

Blaine never wanted to leave Kurt’s arms, the realization washing over him and all he could do was look at Kurt’s beautiful face. Blaine wanted to unlock every mystery, unravel every quirk, get down to the base beating flesh of him and understand him from the inside out and suddenly the world was awash with everything he didn’t know. He wanted to know Kurt’s favorite book, to hear about his best memories, the dips and swells of his childhood, the lives he had lost, what he thought about before he fell asleep and the first thing he thought about when he awoke. He wanted it all and the world shrank to realize he really could spend a lifetime unraveling and never really know him the way he wanted to.

“ _Kurt_.” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken it aloud until Kurt cocked his head to look at him. “I really care about you.” Because he did, and that’s all that really mattered, wasn’t it? Everything else was just details.

“I really care about you, too,” Kurt said, a small smile quirking his lips. “Blaine I-”

Blaine caught Kurt’s eye, really looked at his open expression, felt his palm push just a little more insistently into his back. Blaine responded by stepping closer, narrowing the space between them. 

“Yes?”

Blaine dropped Kurt’s hand and shifted his own to wrap around Kurt’s neck, Kurt moving his hand to Blaine’s hip. 

“Just- I’m really glad we met.”

Blaine let out a happy sort of contented sigh and let his head tuck into Kurt’s chest right at his shoulder.

“Me too,” Blaine whispered, because this was enough wasn’t it? So much more than enough.

 

_Part III_

 

The bitter cold grasp of winter had finally receded from campus. As spring arrived in full force and summer crept slowly up on them Blaine savored the isolated warm days that gave the entire student population infectious spring fever. Loved everything about the way there was some kind of permission granted for everyone to be shamelessly _impassioned_. Like an inexplicable break from the endless strict schoolyard control that Blaine imagined existed in schools everywhere- behavior policed, enthusiasm tamped down in favor of image, that near survival instinct to feel accepted, enough of a motivator to allow for backstabbing and taunting and betrayal.  
But on a warm first-real-day-that-feels-like-Spring kind of day it was more than enough just to _be_. The air of joyfulness from the student body’s reprieve from toxic negativity had worked itself into Kurt and Blaine as well.

Kurt was positively giddy.

“God, like I forgot what it felt like to feel sun on my skin. How can a person just forget that?” Kurt asked rolling up the sleeves of his button up, his blazer slung over the branch of a nearby cherry tree. And Blaine actually giggled, knew exactly how lucky he was that he had Kurt, who could say ridiculous, real, things-that-mattered-even-if-they-seemed-silly sort of things to him, _would_ say them without fear of Blaine’s reaction, not anymore.

It felt so comfortable, like so many other days of long afternoons spent wandering across campus and along the perimeters of the sprawling fields that bordered it. With a surge of affection Blaine took Kurt’s hands and spun them both around in a circle, Blaine throwing back head to laugh at Kurt’s mock-disapproving, and clearly joyous face. Affection warm and palpably physical in Blaine’s chest, his heart feeling like it could burst.

They laughed and spun until they were both dizzy and tumbling to the ground, landing in the grass in a heap, blades of grass tickling at their skin, the smell of warm fresh dirt in their noses.

Blaine stood to snag a handful of pear tree blossoms and knelt down in front of Kurt. Playing idly with the flower, sliding the gentle skin of the petal along the back of his own hand and down over his fingertip. Blaine sensed more than saw Kurt shiver. 

Kurt reached over and grabbed the flower, the places where their skin touched buzzing with electricity. Blaine watched in awe as Kurt brought it to his mouth, gently gliding it over his lips almost thoughtfully. There was nothing coy or overtly seductive at the movement and Blaine had the distinct feeling Kurt had done it without thinking, simply to answer some curiosity of the novel feel of it.

Suddenly Blaine kind of wanted to do it too. But then Kurt’s hands were in his hair, gently working the flower behind his ear and Blaine couldn’t think about anything other than Kurt’s hand on him. Didn’t think before he turned his face into Kurt’s hand when he started to pull away, cupped the back of Kurt’s hand in his palm up beside his face and left a fluttering kiss to Kurt’s palm. Blaine’s heart thudded in his chest but Kurt was smiling at him as he let his hand fall slowly back to his side, just sort of grinning at Blaine like he couldn’t believe his luck.

Blaine thought it might be the very best day of his life.

\- 

“I’ll be over in a sec, just have to grab my lit notes,” Kurt said that evening as the two of them walked up the stairs of their residence hall after dinner.

Perhaps, if it had been just another bitter, cold-dull winter day instead of this electrifying spring, Kurt’s shocked face reappearing in his doorway just minutes after he had left wouldn’t have hit Blaine like a brick wall.

Kurt had looked so bright and so alive just moments ago. The contrast of seeing him so pale now, his face drawn in fear, was almost unbearable.

“Kurt?”

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, then closed it with a snap. Opened it again, “just come,” he finally managed to say. Blaine followed Kurt to his room, his legs feeling heavy with each step and an unknown dread raising the hair on the back of his neck.

Blaine braced himself as Kurt pushed the door open with the flat of his palm, holding his arm out in front of Blaine so he had an unobstructed view. 

As the room came into view Blaine couldn’t hold back a startled gasp. It was impossible to focus on any one thing, everywhere his eyes settled there was chaos and disarray: curtains torn down from their fixtures, drawers upturned with their contents spilling out, the covers from Kurt’s carefully made bed ripped off and thrown on the floor with the mattress so crooked on the box spring it was in danger of falling off, and everywhere Kurt’s possessions thrown across every available surface.

“Why would someone-” Blaine stepped into the room still half in shock and almost trampled on a photo album that had been swept off the desk. Blaine picked it up carefully, his mouth tugged into a frown as pain ached through his chest, the family was smiling- a couple with a baby in their arms; simple joy, captured unmoving and frozen forever.

Blaine placed the album gingerly back on the desk. “Why would anyone do this?”

“There’s a note,” Kurt said in a weak voice as he pointed to a piece of paper stuck with tape over his bed. Blaine peered closer to read it.

 

_Kurt Hummel,  
Careful. You’ll end the same way as Wright. Stop digging up old trouble. Some things are better left secret._

 

There was no name. Of course there wasn’t, Blaine knew there wouldn’t be, but he couldn’t help pulling the note from the wall, flipping it over and searching for some explanation. Then he stood stock still staring at the writing for several minutes with his mouth gawking open before he could speak. There was something about encountering so much chaos in a space that was so intimately familiar. The senselessness and the shock of it that still had Blaine’s mind reeling. 

“Wright?” That’s all Blaine could manage to say.

“I knew it. I _knew it_. There really is something off about Dalton, some kind of mystery. Blaine I knew it.”

Kurt still looked impossibly pale despite the evident relief of having his suspicions supported, his face shocked as he let his eyes wander around the ruins of his room once more.

“They went through my things,” Kurt said horsely, “destroyed my room and upended my furniture, and _went through my things_ , everything is such a mess.”

“Its okay,” Blaine said, his first instinct to assure, “we’ll put it back the way it was, we can do it right now.”

“Someone- someone came in here and just _destroyed_ my room,” Kurt repeated, “because- because of- Could it really be, because of looking at some old school papers and obituaries and _county records_? Why? Unless- unless there really is something hidden that needs to be found.

-  
It took a couple hours, but they managed to get everything back in its place. Both of them flustered and sweaty and exhausted by the time Kurt nodded sharply that his room looked like it hadn’t been ransacked mere hours before. They were both so exhausted they flopped into bed, wrung out physically and emotionally, and fell quickly into fitful sleep with barely another word between them. 

-

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked gently the next morning over breakfast. Kurt had dark circles under his eyes and kept uncharacteristically running his hand through his styled hair.

“I will be, when I figure out who wrote that note.”

“It was probably Patrick playing some sick prank on you.”

“But that note, Blaine, _Wright’s name_.”

“Its not a secret where we always study,” Blaine said attempting to keep the conversation light, “all he had to do was wander down there, you might have left something out.”

“I didn’t-”

“-or overheard us talking.”

Kurt gave Blaine that look that seemed to say he wasn’t having any it.

“I have a test to review for in the meantime,” Kurt said sharply, flipping open his history notebook.

“Kurt-”

“Don’t you have a Greek quiz today?”

“Yes,” Blaine groaned.

Kurt raised his brow and Blaine pulled out his textbook accepting that the conversation was over for the moment.

 

{}{}{}

 

“You know we don’t have to study down here,” Blaine said. He had thought, Kurt believing the note to be a threat and all that, that Kurt might be hesitant about well _doing exactly what the note basically said not to do_. “Patrick hasn’t really bothered us in weeks, I’m sure we’d be fine upstairs.”

“This is our space, Blaine, besides, I need to look some things up. Why, you’re not scared are you?”

“No. Its just a nice day, thought we could enjoy like actual sunlight for once.”

“Well the archives are in the basement so.”

So they set up once again in the basement.  
-

Blaine couldn’t help noticing that Kurt tense; he kept looking over his shoulder as he shuffled through piles of notes and old newspapers, jumping every few minutes at imagined sounds. Blaine found himself growing jumpy just from sharing the same space with him.

After a couple of hours of Blaine trying to calm Kurt’s nerves and giving whatever assistance he could to Kurt’s attempts to make sense of countless odds and ends from years worth of bits of information, Blaine was about to suggest they take a break for dinner when they both jumped hard at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Blaine craned his neck, sighing when he saw it was just the reference librarian who looked just as irritated as ever. Blaine turned back to his homework, cursing all of his nervous energy only to see Kurt staring transfixed as all the blood drained from his face.

“Kurt?”

“We have to go,” Kurt’s voice cracked as he whispered.

“Wh-” Blaine twisted to follow Kurt’s gaze. He saw the reference librarian staring back at Kurt, his mouth a straight line and positively glaring at Kurt and the flurry of newspapers that were fanned across the table. The librarian shook his head sharply and turned to leave even as Blaine watched him.

“He knew,” Kurt whispered and it came out like a squeak. “He knew about Wright, I made him look for all those old Dalton Crests while I went on and on about Matthew Wright and he knows. The only one who could have, and the note, he note was real Blaine. And we’ve just been sitting here like ducks. Come on Blaine, we have to _go_.”  
Blaine threw his books and notebooks into his bag haphazardly. The look of raw fear on Kurt’s face making Blaine’s heart thud uncomfortably, his fingers numb and clumsy as he tried to maneuver the buckles of his bag closed. 

There was a rushing in his ears as Kurt hurried him. Blaine’s mind trying to catch up with what Kurt had said, an attempt make sense of the low thrum of adrenaline that was his body’s response to Kurt’s panic.

The metal of the stairwell railing was cool under Blaine’s palm, something solid for his hand to glide over as his feet fell heavy on the steps, Kurt’s hand on his back, urging him forward.

They reached the top of the stairs and for one endless, horrible second with his hand on the doorknob, Blaine thought they had been locked in. His mind provided him with all kinds of horrible scenarios: confrontations in the barren, windowless archive room, none of them with a good ending.

Blaine gave the warped door a shove and it separated easily from its frame, he and Kurt hurtling into the silence of the main floor of the library. Turning heads as they panted and rasped into the quiet, Kurt’s hand wrapped vice-like around Blaine’s arm.  
Kurt’s face was flushed, his body shaking visibly and Blaine didn’t think Kurt was even aware of how his hand was making a bruise on Blaine’s arm.

“I don’t know what to do. I need to think. I just need to think. Why would he threaten unless he- oh God, killed him, he killed him. Need proof- Have to figure out how- _‘you’ll end the same way as Wright,’_ oh God oh God,” Kurt babbled.

Blaine pried Kurt’s hand off of him gently, placing his hands on Kurt’s shoulders, “we’ll figure it out okay, its going to be alright.”

It took a few seconds for Kurt to focus on what Blaine was saying but eventually he nodded. Looked around guiltily at the few curious students that were still staring at them.

Kurt’s gaze swiveled to the office across the lobby, his frame stiffening, and he brought his hand up to his mouth to muffle a strangled exclamation. Blaine swiveled to follow his gaze. Beside the door, clearly visible in the rectangle of window that looked into the office was Mr. Hatcher, stock still and staring at them. Blaine shivered and wrapped his arm around Kurt’s shoulder. “Ignore him, we’re safe here.”

Kurt looked like he was going to be sick as Blaine ushered him out of the library and across the quad. It was drizzling but the sun was out so Blaine settled them on the lip of the memorial fountain figuring Kurt would appreciate the open space and presence of plenty of witnesses thanks to the multiple games of casual touch football going on around them.

“Now, can you maybe fill me in on why you’re terrified of the reference librarian,” Blaine said gently.

Kurt sighed, a little like he was exasperated with Blaine’s failure to keep up, but launched into an explanation none the less.

-

As it turned out, Kurt was terrified because he’d concocted a theory that old Mr. Hatcher, the grumbling, acerbic librarian, had murdered Matthew Wright in cold blood (and probably, possibly, maybe, had been responsible for several other unexplained deaths in Westerville, including Kurt’s parents). And that Hatcher had realized Kurt was about to get to the truth of all the unanswered questions that littered Westerville’s history and trace them back to him. And had decided to ransack Kurt’s room as a warning and threaten him with the note. And that he and Blaine were now in imminent danger.

When Kurt finally finished explaining, glassy eyed and breathless and still flushed Blaine just sat and blinked at him for a moment.

“Kurt.”

It must have come out as patronizing because Kurt’s face closed off immediately, “Don’t.”

“I know having your room destroyed was a shock, I know this is has been a difficult, an _incredibly difficult_ year-”

“Don’t, Blaine. Don’t you dare sit there and say this is nothing. I need your help. I need you. Theres only so much time and there is so much I don’t know-”

“Kurt just stop.”

“-so many things I’ll just never know, can’t know- we have to get back to the library, there has to be something I missed, has to be something I overlooked-”

“Kurt stop,” Blaine said in a harsh low whisper and Kurt looked, really looked at him for what felt like the first time since the ransacking. Kurt’s face a horrible mixture of shock and anger, not saying a word and just glaring at Blaine.

“Why can’t you stop, Kurt?” Blaine asked calmly, realizing he really did want Kurt to come up with the answer for himself.

“What?”

“Just ask yourself, if there really is a chance some crazy person might hurt you because of it, why is that you feel like you can’t just stop looking into it?”

Kurt looked taken aback, hurt even, and it was worse then the shocked anger of a moment before. “Theres something wrong here, Blaine, and I’m- we’re, we’re the only ones who can figure this out, we’re the only ones who have even come close, I know it.”

“Kurt,” Blaine put his hand on Kurt’s forearm and Kurt pulled away instantly, startling Blaine.

“What are you trying to say?” Kurt fumed.

“Kurt, I just-”

“What on earth do you think I’m doing this all for?”

“There’s not always a reason!” Blaine exclaimed, heart aching and just exhausted, exasperated, finally getting at what had been bothering him in the back of his mind for so long.

“What happened to that boy was terrible Kurt, a terrible accident and trying to create some theory to make his death into a murder. It doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t help anyone. Finding a reason for why it happened won’t take away the grief his family and friends have lived through. Finding a reason for why he died won’t take away the pain that there wasn’t a reason for your parents’ death. It won’t take away any of your pain. It won’t _do anything_.”

Kurt just gawked at him, something between fury and shock and Blaine just plowed on. “Surely you’re are not so oblivious that you’ve failed to realize the only reason you’re so determined to make this boy’s death someone’s fault is because you’re family’s gone and you don’t have anyone to blame!”

“Fuck you,” Kurt growled, his voice low and harsh and _horrible_ , his face twisted into a grimace. “You listened to me talk about this, you helped me look stuff up, you theorized and discussed and listened, listened, _listened_ to me and this whole _fucking_ time you were doing it out of some kind of twisted pity? Because _of course_ the freak is delusional-obsessed about an imaginary murder case. God Blaine I thought-” 

And now it was that much worse because Kurt was still furious, face blotchy-red but he was crying too and Blaine wanted nothing more than to take it all back because he didn’t think any of those things and _how could Kurt even think that?_ But his mouth stayed stubbornly closed in the face of Kurt’s angered, righteous tirade.

“You’re just like all the rest of them!” Kurt yelled, “I thought you were listening to me. I thought you wanted to know me. Well this is it Blaine!” Kurt said throwing his arms wide, “this is what you get, crazy, sad, delusional. I _told you_ I didn’t want to bring you down into this and you didn’t listen and now this is what you get. So if you just wanted a pretty, ‘tragically sad’ boy to moon over and pity then you should have just kept staring at me instead because I’m more than that Blaine.”

-

Blaine just stood watched Kurt walk away from him for several, horrible tense minutes. Just stared and let the horrible feeling in his gut wash over him. Shame and hurt and shock that he had hurt Kurt so very badly.

“Kurt, Kurt wait!” Blaine finally said, snapping from his frozen state, setting off at a run after Kurt, catching up to him quickly “Kurt please!”

Kurt stopped and turned around, taking Blaine in sadly.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Blaine said, pausing to pant because he’d just _sprinted_ and wasn’t really in any kind of shape, “and, Kurt all I’ve ever wanted was to really know you, you not some idea of you, not what everyone else thought of you, just you. And I- I haven’t been disappointed or anything. Because sure, I saw you and thought you were beautiful, and breathtaking and you were so very mysterious and you were so worldly and enchanting. And you are those things, but you’re so much more. I just want you, all of you, I want you in my life and I want you as my best friend and I don’t want to change you or fix you or anything like that, I just want to spend my days with you,” Blaine said still panting. “And I’m sorry that I said those insensitive things and tried to psycho-analyze you or whatever that was, because you don’t deserve that, not from anyone and especially not from me.”

Kurt had started crying again, silent tears that skimmed down his cheeks and dampened his lashes. When he spoke it was more of a croak, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“It doesn’t matter, I forgive you,” Blaine said quickly.

There was a long moment where they just looked at each other, rain splashing down softly over their hair and across their faces.

“I forgive you, too,” Kurt said, closing the space between them and wrapping his arms around Blaine.

 

{}{}{}

 

Kurt and Blaine didn’t talk about ‘the case’ for the rest of the evening. Kurt never brought it up but Blaine couldn’t shake the feeling Kurt was thinking about it, _Blaine  
_ kind of couldn’t stop thinking about it. Because as much as he was determined there had to be some sort of logical explanation, there were just too many coincidences for the whole thing to not be more than a little unnerving.

It was past midnight, campus hushed and dark when Kurt admitted, “I’m actually scared to go back.”

Blaine knew immediately Kurt meant their spot in the library.

“We don’t have to, maybe its for the best.”

“Blaine-”

“I just mean, we could do something else. Tomorrow lets just finish our homework early and push the rest off, we could walk down into Westerville, have dinner, a whole evening just for us.”

“I have to figure out what he’s hiding, have to know for sure if it was him. I don’t know anything about Hatcher, never looked, and I _need_ to Blaine, it’ll eat me up. But I’m terrified of seeing him again. And I know it maybe doesn’t make sense to you, but yesterday when I saw him and everything just clicked all I could see was him destroying my room in a rage and then- and then these flashes of him- of him hurting someone. And I _know_ its just my imagination but its still terrifying.

“So you need to get to the library without any chance of Hatcher being there.”

“Yes. Exactly, that would be the ideal.”

“What if we go tonight?”

 

Kurt jumped on the idea.

There was limited planning to do first, which included Blaine borrowing a wrench from the dorm’s maintenance closet, it seemed like something that might come in handy for breaking in. And then Kurt grabbed a stray baseball bat from the common room because he wanted to carry something too. 

So they set off across campus a little giddy and surprisingly delighted with their little adventure. Nighttime had always seemed like it somehow belonged to them, the time of their first real meaning and countless hours spent together since then, and the silent campus felt like theirs and only theirs in the emptiness of the dark.

Getting in was easy, the front door had been left unlocked. The library only slightly creepy in the perfect stillness of night, rows and rows of empty desks and untouched book stacks.

“Come on,” Kurt whispered.

As soon as they were in the archive Kurt was in his element.

Kurt let his baseball bat clatter to the floor as he ran his index finger along the spines of yearbooks, “the first thing, obviously, is to see if he taught here the year Wright died, Kurt said thoughtfully, tapping his finger once on the year he was after before tugging it down.

“He’s in here,” Kurt said laying the volume flat out on the table so Blaine could look over his shoulder. Blaine reached around Kurt’s frame to trace the name Nathaniel A. Hatcher under a portrait of a much younger version of Mr. Hatcher.

“Okay then, we just have to go through the articles again, there has to be something Blaine. Something I overlooked before.”

Kurt almost ran over to the drawers of newspapers, a frantic look in his eyes as he started pulling out newspapers regardless of date and throwing them across the table.

There was so much commotion they both missed the sound of footsteps on the stairs. 

“Well what do we have here.”

Hatcher.

Blaine dropped the wrench he was holding as he turned on his heel, the skin-warmed metal slipping from his hand in shock. He heard Kurt scream beside him. And Blaine realized right away how utterly trapped they were, stuck in the aisle with nothing but the wall behind them.

Hatcher’s face was twisted into a horrible snarl as he looked at them.

“Stay back,” Kurt’s voice came out loud but Blaine could hear the waver underneath, knew Kurt was every bit as terrified as he was.

“Oh very brave, aren’t we? But I think the time for warnings has passed now, don’t you?”

“We didn’t do anything,” Blaine snapped.

“Oh but you did. Asking questions. Digging long-past things up again. Then spreading it around campus. I’m frankly quite sick of it. And here you both are, wandering right into my domain in the middle of the night. How very convenient.”

Blaine felt his heart jump up into his throat, sweat beading across his forehead and gathering in his palm. Hatcher, here, now, snarling and threatening, couldn’t be chalked up to some kind of misunderstanding any more, that was for certain. 

This was real, and they were in way over their heads.

“We’ll stop,” Blaine said. “We won’t tell anyone. We won’t look anymore. We’ll stop. We promise.” Blaine babbled, he’d probably say anything to increase their chances of just walking out of this.

Hatcher grinned at that, a sick expression twisting up his features, accentuating the sharp pointed angles of his chin and nose. “Yes, you will.”

“We’ll just go then,” Kurt said and there was no hiding the quiver in his voice now, the fear painfully evident. Kurt’s hand clamped cold and clammy over Blaine’s and Kurt took a steady step forward.

Another step. Blaine’s whole body was tense with apprehension. He felt his nerves jumping through his system, his heart pounding in his chest. They were almost even with Hatcher and Blaine was just starting to think he might just let them walk by when Hatcher shifted and turned. Just a slight movement to the side, almost as if to give them more room to pass by but it sent some wire tripping in Blaine’s mind -

Blaine shoved Kurt unceremoniously in front of him so they could squeeze around Hatcher, their slow measured steps speeding up in the space of half a second. Blaine felt the muscles in his legs draw up, ready to run as soon as they were in open space. He took a deep breath, ready to start out at a sprint for the stairs, his eyes so focused on his goal he didn’t see Hatcher’s next movement - just felt an arm slung out at his waist. 

Blaine yelled, struck off balance by the sudden impact right at the point of gathering momentum to sprint forward. He stumbled backward, the air knocked out of him. And then Hatcher was behind him, his wiry arms proving stronger than Blaine would have expected from his age, pinning Blaine against his chest, in the space of a heartbeat Blaine completely immobilized.

Blaine kicked back, trying to bury the heel of his loafer in Hatcher’s shin but he couldn’t seem to get his limbs to work right.

“Blaine!”

Blaine looked up at the sound of Kurt’s voice. 

Kurt stood frozen at the end of the aisle, light from the main area of the basement illuminating his frame and the shocked look of horror on his face.

Kurt shifted, and Blaine read his body language as easily as if he had screamed his intentions. Kurt would run back for him and then they’d both be stuck, and if a rational part of Blaine’s mind thought maybe the two of them could fend Hatcher off it didn’t make itself known to his haze-filled, panicked mind.

“Run! Kurt, go! _Go_.”

Kurt’s eyes widened, every line of his face expressing his torn attempt at making a decision, time hanging suspended for the length of a single breath. Kurt’s brows lowered, his head turned slightly, like an apology. Then a flicker of something else.

The next second he was gone, out of Blaine’s line of sight immediately, his shoes clapping hard against the hard wood.

“No!” Hatcher’s voice was gravel rough as he yelled and Blaine felt the anger in his voice. Hatcher flung Blaine aside with enough force that Blaine crashed into the stacks so quickly he couldn’t get his hands up to break his fall. Dull pain shot up his arm and shoulder. He felt a sharp jolt to his temple as the side of his head collided with the wood and Blaine staggered, trying to regain his balance before he took off after Hatcher. Blood pounded in his ears and the sound of his labored breathing seemed just as loud as the clattering of running feet.

Blaine sprang out of the aisle in time to see Kurt already up the first rotation of the circular staircase with Hatcher lunging forward to latch his bony hand around Kurt’s ankle. Kurt stumbled, his hands white knuckled on the banister to keep from losing his footing all together.

Blaine was behind Hatcher in a second, and without time to think he did the only thing instinct told him to: launched himself bodily at Hatcher. They both went down in a tangle of limbs, Hatcher howling as he lost his grip on Kurt.

“Fuck,” Hatcher panted, throwing Blaine off and getting a grip around Blaine’s throbbing elbow. Hatcher spared one last glance up the stairs as Kurt’s feet disappeared past the threshold at the top. 

Hatcher yanked Blaine forward with the hand on his arm, Blaine moving in stumbling lurches as Hatcher forced him forward towards where the door of the supply closet was hanging open.

“Stop, please,” Blaine said, trying to twist out of Hatcher’s grip and digging his heels in to slow their progress toward the closet. “We didn’t do anything! Stop!”

Hatcher just grit his teeth, muscling Blaine past the threshold of the closet. Blaine got a grip on the doorframe though, his fingers digging into the woodwork, adrenaline finally working with him, the muscles in his fingers simply refusing to budge no matter how much Hatcher pushed and shoved.

“Ahrg! Fucking snobby brat,” Hatcher growled. Blaine realized what was happening a split second too late, processing Hatcher’s furious face, the sudden movement of his arm, and the heavy door hurtling towards him. 

Blaine’s reaction time was too slow, the door thudding hard then ricocheting off his fingers. Tears sprang from his eyes as he jerked his hands away on instinct with an echoing shriek. The door slammed with another bang, this time all the way shut. The light from the main room cutting off immediately. 

Blaine tried to catch his breath as he cradled his throbbing fingers protectively against his chest, hot tears spilling down his cheeks and trying to force down his growing sense of panic _He’d be okay. He’d be okay hadtobeokay_. “Let me out!” Blaine shrieked and he didn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice it was so high and panicked. He jiggled the doorknob uselessly, threw his shoulder against it but there was nothing to do.

“Blaine!”

That was Kurt and _nonono_ , this wasn’t happening, couldn’t be happening. Because Kurt had run, run to get help. And now he was back and “Kurt, no!”

Blaine splayed his fingers across the door, leaning close to listen, breath tight in his chest, making it hard to breathe, every nerve in his body strung taut, every second that passed stretching on and on. 

Blaine couldn’t hear more than the sounds of indistinct shuffling. He made out the whistle-swing of something heavy moving fast through the air, but it never made contact. There was the low-gruff curse from Hatcher and then something clattered against hard against the floor, echoing around the basement.

“Kurt!?” Blaine yelled.

“I’m okay,” came his muffled response, followed by a snarl and squeal of pain from Hatcher.

“Get off! Off! Damn you!” Kurt’s voice yelled.

Another whistle followed this time by the heavy smack of impact and something cracked horribly.

“Kurt?!”

“M’okay! Ahh- No, stop!”

“Kurt!”

But the world beyond Blaine’s prison had turned to chaos: desperate scrambling, gruff curses and Kurt’s pleading.

“Kurt, Kurt please,” Blaine muttered hysterical.

“Get back from the door!” Hatcher roared and Blaine took a step back without thinking about it.

The door sprang open and Kurt was shoved inside before Blaine had time to process what was happening. Kurt tripping with a pained squeal over the threshold and and landing in a heap on the floor.

Blaine kneed down at Kurt’s side and Kurt scrambled up to his knees, throwing his arms around Blaine. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t leave you, I was running away to get help and then I thought what if I was too late, what if I was too late and I never saw you again- and I just couldn’t leave, I’m sorry.”

Blaine’s fingers scrabbled over Kurt’s back drawing him closer until their chests were mashed together as close as they could get. Blaine breathing in the familiar scent at Kurt’s neck and shushing him softly.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“You always say that,” Kurt said through his tears.

“We will.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Hatcher said. Blaine could see where the light was disrupted in the crack under the door and knew from the shadows his legs cast that he was standing right on the other side of the door. Blaine shivered and Kurt prompted them to slide back, until they were sitting on the far wall, nestled between long forgotten cleaning and maintenance supplies.

“You won’t get away with this,” Kurt snarled. Blaine tried very hard not to think about what ‘this’ could be.

Hatcher chuckled.

“I liked you Kurt, at first. Respectful and interested, a passion for knowledge. Though that quest for knowledge got peskily specific rather quickly, didn’t it?”  
Kurt didn’t answer and after a pause Hatcher continued.

“I knew your parents.”

Blaine held Kurt a little more firmly with the hand wrapped around Kurt’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Kurt said quietly.

“They were always very transparent about their support of Dalton Academy. How happy Burt was he’d been able to attend such a school. They had all these plans for setting up scholarships, funds for extracurricular activities, funds for textbooks, funds for the library. So many possibilities with that Westervelt fortune. Got everyone so very excited-.”

Hatcher made a hiss of pain, “you packed quite a punch with that cursed baseball bat of yours, damn near cracked my shoulder open I think.”

When Hatcher spoke again his voice was rougher, like he was trying to tone down how much pain he was in, “-they set it all up in their will of all things, fucking _told_ me about it. All that money tucked away in some investment fund so I’d never see a cent of it put to use in my library. It was terribly disappointing.”

“But then of course, there was the accident.”

Kurt was squeezing Blaine’s hand so hard it hurt, Kurt leaning forward at every word.

“You killed them.” Kurt said, his voice deadly calm.

“How dare you say a thing like that, so base, so uncreative, give me some credit,” Hatcher retorted, but it came out almost silky smooth, like a purr. “But I do know which of Burt’s employees installed the faulty break system, he assures by accident, if you’d be interested in that little tidbit, for a price of course. Though at this point I don’t see why it would matter, you certainly won’t have long to enjoy the information.”

“What are you-” Kurt started.

“I make it my business to know things,” Hatcher cut in, “I know more about this town then anyone. And a town like Westerville, well there are plenty of secrets to be had. Plenty of people with deep pockets and too much shame who will happily fund every collection I want to purchase for this fine institution.”

“Blackmail,” Kurt whispered.

“Ah yes, a complicated web of it too and it only works if everyone is assured their secret is safe. And there just always seems to be some overly-curious student who gets just a tad too close...and then I _snap_ ,” Hatcher accentuated with a hard knock on the door.

Blaine jumped and Kurt’s grasp on his hand got that much tighter.

Hatcher chuckled but it turned to a moan halfway, “damn shoulder,” he muttered, “ _dammit_.”

Blaine could hear Hatcher pacing outside the door, tracking the movement of his shadow in the crack under the door. Then he could hear Hatcher muttering to himself, “have to pick up a few things from home, work out a plan, get something for my shoulder, not much time, not much time at all.”

And then he was walking away at a brisk pace, his footfalls echoing from the stairs, not another word and just like that he was gone.

“He’ll be back,” Kurt whispered beside him and Blaine wished he could see his face.

“You okay?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah just a few scrapes and bruises. You?”

“I’m okay, fingers hurt, but it’ll be fine.”

“Oh, sorry,” Kurt said loosening his grasp, cradling Blaine’s hand gently and brushing a fluttering kiss over his knuckles. “What happened?”

“They got in the way of the door slamming shut, and no you didn’t hurt me, and don’t you dare let go of me,” his voice going all wavery at the end.”

“Its all my fault,” Kurt said, “all this stupid research and I hurt the only person I care about.”

“I don’t want to talk about any of that,” Blaine said, “I don’t care about it, I forgive you.”

Kurt sniffled, “I’m so selfish, Blaine, I could have gotten help if I’d gotten out, could have saved you. But you’re my whole world and I couldn’t bear the thought of being too late and then I thought, this crazy thought that I could just rush in and save you.”

“I’m not angry, Kurt, I just want you to hold me, please just hold me.”

“Always, always Blaine... I love you.”

Blaine let out a shuddering breath, his face scrunched up in misery because he’d waited so long to hear those words and it wasn’t fair that he had to hear them like this, here, because it could be the only thing he had left.

“I love you, too. So much Kurt, always.”

“Its not fair,” Kurt muttered after a moment.

“I know.”

“Maybe we can get out.”

“Kurt, the door’s locked.”

“No, no its not, theres just a chair wedged up under the doorknob. If we could get it loose...”

Blaine was on his feet the next second, jiggling the knob and rattling the door for all it was worth.

Blaine turned around after a minute to see what Kurt was doing. Kurt had his hand under his chin and was tapping his toe like this had suddenly turned into nothing more than a particularly pesky trig problem as he surveyed the contents of the supply closet.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Well, we have a chair with four legs, a door with about a quarter inch of space under it, and a closet full of odds and ends. Don’t you think its at least possible that we can come up with something to get us out?”

-

The actual mechanics of trying to shift that damn chair was nothing short of torturous. Kurt spent what seemed like an hour on his stomach jammed up against the door, his head on the floor, a thick wire in his hand bent in half first probing and poking insistently at the wooden chair leg that wouldn’t budge, then trying his luck with a hook contraption he had made. While Blaine delved into the deepest corners of the closet in search of a strong, long, thin something that would work better.

There was a piece of narrow metal piping just a hair too big to fit under the door. Several pieces of string and a paperclip fashioned into a lasso-type tool that Kurt and then Blaine tried their luck with until they were both sweaty and cursing and Blaine’s fingers throbbing so bad he had to stop. But try as they might they couldn’t get the chair to move. Blaine felt like they’d been at it for hours but there was nothing they could do but keep going, their lives depended on it.

Blaine _finally_ found a piece of heavy metal, flat and strong enough that if they could get the right leverage should be able to push one of the chair legs.  
“I got something,” Blaine said breathlessly.

Kurt flung the wire he’d been trying to hook around a leg again on the floor, “give me,” Kurt said, eyes wide.

“Careful,” Blaine muttered. The metal piece wasn’t terribly long, though Blaine thought it would be just long enough, just had to be long enough.

Blaine watched without daring to draw breath as Kurt carefully slid the flat metal under the door, his face pushed into the floor to try and be able to see. He placed his fingers carefully on either side of the metal, sliding his hand as far is would go, Kurt’s lip white around where he was biting it. “Fuck,” and then he shoved his fingers under the door with a cry of pain that turned to a shout of triumph. Kurt retracted his fingers as gingerly as he could in a rush and tried the door. 

The door shoved open a bit but got caught up on the back of the chair again. “Oh my God. Oh my God I think I can-” Kurt muttered as he wriggled his hand through the open space, mashed his body up against the door. “Oh my God.”

Blaine heard the chair scratch further away from the door and then the door was open. The freedom of the open door staring them right in the face.

Kurt and Blaine nearly tripped over each other stumbling out of the supply closet, arms slung around each other. Rushing, tripping up the stairs, bursting through the empty library lobby and finally out onto to the lawn.

It was just past dawn, campus bathed in dusky light but Blaine felt like they had spent all day trying to get that chair away from the door. Blaine stood panting, his hand clutched in the back of Kurt's blazer, bent over awkwardly and trying to catch his breath, or maybe there was too much air in his lungs he couldn’t tell anymore. He glanced up to see Kurt’s gaze darting frantically around them, searching the lingering shadows, then his gaze fell to Blaine.

“You’re okay Blaine, just breathe alright?” Kurt said gently. “We did it, we made it. Kurt’s hand cupped around the back of Blaine’s neck, Kurt looking Blaine straight in the eye. “You alright?”

Blaine nodded, "shouldn’t we- uh we should probably tell someone."

Kurt’s attempt at calm control faltered a little at that, "like who?"

"Police? He did kind of kidnap us?"

"Police?" Kurt repeated in a daze.

"Maybe a teacher to start?"

"Where can we find a teacher at this hour?"

"I guess we have to wait until school starts," Blaine said, it felt weird, he'd never really needed access to an adult while at school before, he wasn't sure how to go about it. They could call someone, track down a number somewhere, there had to be something- Blaine just couldn’t make his brain work right now.

"And do what in the meantime? Build a fort in your dorm?"

Blaine read that as a suggestion masked as a joke, his feet moving in the direction of their residence hall before Blaine had registered a conscious decision to do so. Kurt closed into step beside Blaine at a brisk pace, they weren’t exactly safe, not yet. Kurt’s hand slipped inside Blaine’s as they walked.

As Kurt and Blaine turned the corner of their building, heading towards the nearest entrance, they heard voices drifting across the quad. 

Huddled near the fountain a knot of teachers stood talking in hushed whispers, their dark suits startling and harsh in the gentle sunlight, heads bent low together like they were afraid of being overheard despite the emptiness of the quad.

"What on earth?" Kurt muttered, leading them up to where the teachers were speaking with a gentle tug on Blaine’s hand.

One of the adults twirled around before they had even gotten close.

"Go back to bed boys, there's nothing to see here."

Blaine recognized their headmistress, sharp features so at odds with her wide brown eyes and softly curling hair.

"But-" Blaine started.

Headmistress Reynolds looked sharply over her shoulder, away from Blaine and Kurt, up the gravel drive where it sloped up a small hill before dipping back down towards Westerville. Blaine followed her gaze, the massive elm was there same as usual -

Then Blaine saw it, crunched up against the trunk and swiveled away from the road was a massive white sedan.

"There's been a... fatal accident," Headmistress Reynolds muttered.

"Someone leaving campus," Kurt said, thinking aloud.

"We don't know that for sure," a man from the group cut in.

"Who?" Kurt's voice was low, deadly-serious, his eyes hard as he stared at the headmistress, there was no mistaking the question for idle, tactless curiosity.

Headmistress Reynolds must have interpreted it as Kurt desperately fearing the loss of someone he knew, her gaze softening as she looked at him.

"We can't-" the man started but Headmistress Reynolds waved him off.

"We'll have to make an announcement soon anyway... I’m sorry son, it was Mr. Hatcher."

"Oh." 

Kurt's face looked the same way Blaine felt, completely numb. Then there was something almost like relief. Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand. 

-

"How do you feel?" Blaine asked when they’d been settled in Blaine’s room for a while; Kurt still with that numb look on his face, just staring.

"Nothing,” Kurt said.

"Everything."

"Honestly,” Kurt sighed, “Shock. Relief that we're safe. Disappointment that we still don't have answers. Regret that no one will ever know what he really was, that we won't."

"I feel kind of sick," Blaine said.

"Me too actually, and you know, I don't think I really want to know anymore. Not when there's no danger of him hurting someone else. I don't want to know. I don't." Kurt was shaking his head hard back and forth, hiccuping and gulping back sobs and Blaine reached forward and tugged him into a fierce embrace.

"It's okay, shhh it's over now, it's all over Kurt, it's okay."

“I think its time, time to let go,” Kurt whispered into Blaine’s chest. “To keep close everything good I learned you know, everything about my parents, all the memories of my grandparents. But- but I need to move forward too.”

Kurt cried for a long time on Blaine's shoulder as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Laying to rest unanswered questions with each silent moment that passed.

Blaine fell asleep with Kurt tangled in his arms, an unfamiliar tightness between Blaine's brow and in his throat that he thought came from listening to someone cry and trying not to make it worse by crying as well. Waking in fitful bursts all day in disorienting bright sun. Fantasy sounds that kept waking him up and plagued by murky nightmares when he managed to get some rest. 

And Blaine ached through all of it in a way he couldn’t quite process. Because Blaine had Kurt in his arms safe and warm and so very there. And sometimes the good things have their own kind of ache.

 

{}{}{}

 

That afternoon there was more foot traffic then usual up to the old elm. Curious students milling by to examine the location of Hatcher's death like it held some kind of meaning. As if there'd be anything to see when the tow truck was already long gone with the totaled car, when the ambulance had long since pulled away, lights and siren never turned on, the caution tape pulled down.

There was a subdued memorial during chapel the day after, a few thrown together words by Headmistress Reynolds that described Mr. Hatcher as ‘generously knowledgeable and fiercely passionate about his work’. 

Blaine saw a few teachers nodding along in agreement and wondered if they'd really known a man who held those qualities, or if it was all for show.

The solemnity that had drifted down over campus with the presence of death lifted after the formality of the memorial. There was no bench naming in his memory, no plaque put up in the library, not a portrait at his office door to mark the life that had been lived within that space. Nothing at all to mark his passing. The whole ordeal brushed away so quickly and neatly Blaine had to wonder if in a dozen years or so another student would come across some article about the unexplained accident of a school librarian and become wrapped up in a mystery that wasn’t really there. Or was and could never really be explained.

-

Blaine still felt like they should tell someone.

So when a police officer came to campus setting up his office in a spare classroom with an open invitation at chapel for anyone to go talk to him about any information they might have about Hatcher...something about an insurance claim; Blaine insisted they take their chance. Kurt and Blaine filing solemnly into the empty classroom the first chance they got.

The man taking down their statements nodded just once, at the very end, pencil tapping on the edge of his little notebook. “I can put your statements on the record boys, but I’m afraid theres really not much for us to do with that information.”

“We know,” Kurt nodded.

“We do, we just- it felt too much like a secret, and we didn’t want it to be,” Blaine said, voice tight from the effort of recounting everything Hatcher had said.

So their statements passed quietly and without fuss into the care of the police service, the insurance dispute went by unnoticed by the public eye, And Blaine felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest when he and Kurt didn’t have to bear the burden of their ordeal entirely alone.

-  
It was still spring, after all, and the students of Dalton had bright young lives to live. 

Blaine and Kurt watched the hectic fever of upcoming summer root itself in their fellow students. The pair avoiding the dusty archives and choosing instead to complete their homework in the bright sunlight instead. Throwing off their blazers and ties and rolling up their sleeves while the sounds of baseball games drifted up from the fields. Days of easy bright sunlight and enough just _normal_ everyday things until Dalton felt almost safe again.

-

"Do you remember when we first met?" Kurt asked one evening as dusk slipped slowly into nightfall, Kurt laying on his back and blinking up at the sky.

"Of course, I'll never forget it." Blaine said leaning closer where he was perched on his elbow to smile down at Kurt. A few feckless had appeared across the bridge of his nose, the hint of more sprinkled down over his cheeks. Blaine thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

"You looked so shocked, like you didn't believe I was real or something."

"I was simply overcome with my good fortune."

"I kind of thought you weren’t real. I think I really loved you, even then, as crazy as that sounds,” Kurt said, blushing.”

"Not crazy, I felt it too,” Blaine said, then added, “Can I show you something?"

Kurt nodded, looking surprised but pleased, trusting - Blaine realized.

Blaine tugged Kurt’s hand into his own, their hands slotting together perfectly like that, walking along in pleasant silence.

“Blaine, you know I had all these illusions about _coming home_. And I really don’t know how I thought I could feel closer to my parents just by being in the empty space their lives had taken place in, but I did.”

“Oh Kurt, it makes sense...”

Kurt shook his head gently, “thats not what I wanted to say, what I really mean is, in a way, I think I found what I was really looking for. Blaine, I got you out of all this. You mean so much to me and I’m so thankful for every moment I get to share with you,” Kurt finished quickly blushing up to the tips of his ears.

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand.

“I feel the same,” Blaine whispered breathless near Kurt’s ear and it wasn’t quite the words he wanted to say but they were all he could manage at the moment.

The sky outside was perfectly clear, stars glittering though the darkness. The air warm but not muggy, and the silence of the campus at night felt somehow lighter. 

Warmth hugged pleasantly to their skin as Blaine led them up the little grassy knoll behind the academic building. The view of the fields beyond coming suddenly into view.

“June bugs,” Kurt said in awe, laughing lightly under his breath, a warm bright sound as he took in the view. Down the hill and across the creek, the view of flat endless fields beyond, Blaine could see hundreds of fireflies blinking in the darkness. Lighting up the barren landscape with tiny pinpricks of light, flashing like twinkle lights in a natural arrhythmic discordance.

“Beautiful,” Kurt said, looping his arm around Blaine’s waist, his head resting on Blaine’s shoulder.

“Kurt,” Blaine said gently, barely willing to disrupt the fragile serenity of the moment. But Blaine had learned by now that these precious moments were only the first of many.

“Yeah, Blaine?”

Blaine turned into Kurt so he could see his face, Kurt’s arm dropping to his side, “I love you.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, then Kurt threw his arms around Blaine’s neck holding him close, whispering in his ear, “I love you too, so much Blaine.”

They’d said it before, of course, hazy with terror and the immediacy of might-be-now-or-never. It felt different with summer and senior year stretching out before them. All the time in the world.

Blaine had had more words planned, something about falling in love so slowly you don’t even realize it while at the same time knowing he loved Kurt in some way since the first time he saw him. Something about how Kurt woke him up when he hadn’t known he’d been sleeping, or maybe that this was a dream because knowing Kurt was the most precious thing in the world. A dozen cliches but there wasn’t a single word that came to his tongue. 

Blaine leaned closer instead, fingertips skating the smooth skin of Kurt’s cheek.  
Closer until he could see every green and blue speck in his beautiful kaleidoscope iris, see each eyelash curled elegantly up to frame the depth of those eyes.

Kurt surged forward, closing the last bit of space between them, his hands firm on Blaine shoulders. 

Their lips met and the world tilted just a little. There was white behind Blaine’s eyelids, and the electricity shooting up his spine felt like he was coming apart at the seams, the whole world shrunk down to the sweet, smooth slide of Kurt’s lips against his. Blaine caught off guard by the curious emotion and physicality of it, what it meant.

Kurt pulled back, that soft warm laugh erupting from his lungs like a pleased gasp. Blaine hadn’t gotten beyond staring at Kurt in awe when Kurt’s face broke into a grin and Blaine found himself mirroring it.

“I don’t think we should ever stop doing that,” Kurt said breathlessly. And Blaine couldn’t help it, broke into a fit of relieved, pleased, _joyous_ laugher, spurred on all the more when Kurt joined in again.

Their laughter gave way to more kisses, to smiles against each other’s lips and whispered affections. Blaine remembered at last what he had meant to say, that loving Kurt felt somehow like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is very much welcome. Thanks for reading :)


End file.
